


Whistles and Bells

by afrai



Series: Who Watches Over You [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Backstory, Banter, M/M, Mutual Pining, Porn, Space Husbands, The Most Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 08:46:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10082042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrai/pseuds/afrai
Summary: "Baze," said Chirrut. "This isan injustice.""I don't tell you what to do," gasped Baze. "Don't tell me what to do – ""You tell me what to do all the time!""No," said Baze. He lowered his hand. It felt important to make this clear."I comment disparagingly on what you're about to do," he said. "That's different. I don't try to stop you."Chirrut wants to wait. Follow-up toAlways Near.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [antediluvian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/antediluvian/gifts).



> It feels a little weird to dedicate porn to a friend, but to the extent that the porn is severable from the banter, the banter is for antediluvian, in recognition of her sterling services to supportive yelling.
> 
> To be read after [Always Near](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10051310).

It took them a while to get off Torize, and a while after that to get any peace.

Privacy was too much to hope for. Baze was relieved to have secured enough space to roll out a mat in the cargo bay of a freighter bound for Hagarth space station. He'd be able to pick up some work at Hagarth, hopefully, and then they could find a vessel headed for the Terrabe Bypass, which would take them home.

Hard to imagine it. Baze wasn't used to thinking of himself as having a home anymore.

He pushed away the thought of what Jedha must be like now, how it must have changed. He'd find out if they ever got there.

In the meantime, he had better things to think about.

They could only afford space enough for one mat. It was a tight fit, but Baze didn't mind. He pressed his lips to the shell of Chirrut's ear.

"Hm," said Chirrut sleepily. "That's nice." 

Two seconds later he said, sounding more awake, "Wait, what are you doing?"

Baze stopped. "What?"

Chirrut said in a whisper, "Aren't we surrounded by people?"

They weren't the only ones fleeing Torize: few people wanted to stay on a toxic planet ruled by gangsters in the absence of functioning political institutions. They were packed in like peas in a pod in the cargo bay.

Baze had slept in more uncomfortable places. The number of warm bodies crowded in the place led to a certain funk, but at least it meant they wouldn't get cold. It wasn't as though there was any other source of heating.

"Yes?" said Baze.

"You don't want to – " said Chirrut. " _Here?_ "

"But everybody's doing it," said Baze, puzzled. "The couple next to us are on their second round."

"I expected more refinement from Baze Malbus," said Chirrut severely.

Baze was bewildered. "Everyone slept together in the Temple dorms too." 

There had been a point during Baze's early adulthood when he had suddenly shot up and expanded, and the attention he'd received had followed suit. Those had been pleasant evenings, though he tried not to think about them anymore. As far as he knew, everyone who had come to his bed then was dead.

"Oh," said Chirrut. 

"Didn't they do that at Damaris?" said Baze.

"We had more space in the provincial shrines," said Chirrut. After a moment he added grudgingly, "Maybe others did. I slept alone. They gave my own cell after I turned eight."

This wasn't unheard of. Some people had been made allowances – chronic sleepwalkers, for example. "Why?"

"I don't remember," said Chirrut, "but I think the elders started talking about it when the other kids put rot-wings in my bed. But it was only when someone set it on fire that they decided to move me."

"The other novitiates tried to _set fire_ to you?"

"Oh no," said Chirrut. "I wasn't in the bed at the time. It was an accident. I'm sure," he said, sounding unsure.

"Why did they do that?"

Chirrut had his moods. Despite his appearance of candour, there were times he would answer questions and times he would not. This proved to be one of the latter.

"I don't care what you libertines did at the Temple at NiJedha," he said, as though they'd never got off the topic. "I'm not having sex with you for the first time in the cargo bay of a freighter, surrounded by a hundred other people. We've waited this long. We can afford to wait till we're back on Jedha and have a place to ourselves.

"A bed," he added. "Privacy. Incense. Maybe candlelight. Do you like candlelight?"

"Seriously?" said Baze. He could hear the raw edge of desperation in his voice. He swallowed it down and said:

"We don't know what we're going to find on Jedha. We're half a galaxy away. We might not _survive_ to get to Jedha."

"We'll survive," said Chirrut serenely. "Don't worry about that." With which he rolled over and went to sleep.

* * *

To be required to discipline himself further was one thing. Baze had managed to hold out for this long, with only one lapse (and he had never _touched_ Chirrut, so arguably it didn't count).

He'd refused to fuck Chirrut even when Chirrut was throwing his long-limbed, smooth-skinned, minimally clothed self at him on a daily basis, because it was meaningless to speak of consent or free will when one of you was a slave. Now that Chirrut's will was that they should wait, Baze could live with it.

But Chirrut was not helping. Contrary to appearances, it seemed Chirrut had been holding back when he was a slave too. Maybe he'd been conscious of how little it would have taken to break down Baze's defences, and how little there would have been left of Baze after.

Now all constraint was lifted. And it turned out that Chirrut was … physical.

It didn't seem to be deliberate teasing. It was just that Chirrut touched Baze. All the time. Small, acceptable touches – his palm on Baze's shoulder, a steadying hand at his elbow, the occasional brush of his fingers across the back of Baze's hands.

These were … fine. There was no basis to object to them. They were driving Baze out of his mind, but that seemed to be Chirrut's _raison d'etre_ anyway. It was only when Chirrut decided to add kissing Baze's neck to his usual morning routine of meditation and chanting that Baze rebelled.

"If we're not going to – " he said. The woman next to them started, glancing nervously at Baze. He lowered his voice. "If we're waiting till we get to Jedha, then stop doing that."

Chirrut stopped. "You don't like it?"

His lips were still on Baze's back. Baze shivered at the puff of air on the back of his neck.

"It's not a matter of liking," he said. "If we're not going to – I just think you could hold off, until."

Chirrut pulled back. 

"I didn't realise that was all you were interested in," he said coldly.

"You're joking." Baze turned. Chirrut looked genuinely affronted. He was hunched, his back raised like an angry feline's. "If that was all I was interested in, I would've fucked you the day I got on that transport. I'm not made of stone, Chirrut. You could give me a break."

But Chirrut was not in a mood to be understanding.

"Fine," he said. "It's good you told me. I wouldn't want to obtrude my affection on you."

"You know that's not what I – "

"It's fine, Baze."

Baze could already see the signs of an oncoming gargantuan fit of sulks. He was tempted to leave Chirrut to it, but it was going to be weeks at least before they reached Jedha. Baze wouldn't put it beyond Chirrut to hold a grudge for that long.

He didn't feel like being gentle. He grabbed Chirrut by the scruff of his neck and kissed him hard enough that their teeth clicked together, shoving his tongue into Chirrut's mouth.

After the first surprise Chirrut responded enthusiastically. Baze felt his hands wandering down Chirrut's back. 

He was going to need to check this, if they were going to stop.

He curled a hand over Chirrut's hip, squeezed it, then pushed him away.

"I don't have a problem with affection," said Baze. His voice sounded lower than usual, gravelly. Chirrut twitched towards him as though he couldn't help himself. "OK?"

"Yes," said Chirrut, after a pause. He sounded a little dazed.

So, of course, Chirrut got his way. The touches continued. Baze was such a fucking pushover.

* * *

Things got worse when the freighter broke down on the edge of the Mid Rim. 

In a way this turned out well for Baze and Chirrut. They managed to get themselves on the yacht of a Mon Calamari heiress with an interest in the Force. For once Chirrut was being paid more than Baze: he meditated with the heiress in the mornings, while Baze joined the security staff.

They were given their own room – a nicer room than they had any right to expect. Chirrut looked dubious when Baze pointed this out.

"Really?" he said. "It smells."

There was perhaps a marshy quality to the room. The vessel had been designed to Mon Calamari preferences. It was kept damp and cool – not a climate suited to Jedhan tastes – and there was more mould than there had ever been on the Hutt transport where Chirrut had lived for several months.

"It's a nice room by most standards," said Baze. "You were spoilt. Not everyone can afford Hutt luxury."

Chirrut grasped his own ankle and pulled it up to his face. "It's kind of slimy too. Have you noticed that?"

There was no real reason why Chirrut should have taken off his robe to do his stretches. It wasn't that warm in here.

"The point is," said Baze, "we're all alone here. We've got a door that locks. Nobody can hear us."

"We can hear your colleagues in the next room."

"Nobody," said Baze, " _would_ be able to hear us so long as we exercised some self-control. We've both been trained in the sixteen virtues. We should be able to manage."

"I was always terrible at the seventh virtue," said Chirrut thoughtfully. "I think that's why I failed my sixth attempt to pass the third duan."

Baze had started the conversation to resolve the situation, but he couldn't not follow this lead. "Not the first five?"

Chirrut shook his head. "I was too young on the first attempt. I probably shouldn't have tried it then. It was the elders' idea, but they regretted encouraging me to go for it so early."

"Really?" said Baze. He sat on the floor, far enough away that he wouldn't get in the way of Chirrut putting his forehead on his toes. "How old were you?"

Novitiates had generally started trying to pass the first duan in their mid-teens. Baze had drawn a lot of attention for attaining the first duan at age 12.

"It was the year the shrine got a pigeon cote," said Chirrut, "so I must have been seven. Then the second time they wouldn't pass me because I wasn't serious enough, but to be fair I was only nine."

"You tried for the third duan at age _seven_?" said Baze. People had been known to _die_ in the trials. Admittedly, not usually in the trials for third duan, but most people weren't seven years old when they attempted those. "Wait, is that why the other novitiates set your bed on fire?"

"It was the will of the Force that that should happen," said Chirrut. "To remind me of humility." It sounded like something a misguided elder had told him.

"How could the elders have allowed a child to attempt the trials?" Baze was abruptly furious, meaningless as this all now was. Had nobody been protecting Chirrut?

"Oh, I pushed for the second attempt," said Chirrut. "It wasn't the elders' fault. They made me wait till I was 13 to try again for the third time. Quite old enough. But I was going through a growth spurt and it made me clumsy, so I botched my demonstration of the fourth form. It annoyed me so much I messed up all the others to make sure I'd fail. I didn't want to pass with an imperfect score for martial arts."

This was a flagrant violation of the rules governing the trials, and indeed the rules governing the conduct of the Guardians of the Whills in general. Chirrut would have been failed for that alone.

"Heresy," said Baze. "You're supposed to accept what the Force gives you on the day of the trials."

"Well, the Force gave me the desire to fail unless I could pass with a perfect martial arts score," said Chirrut. He counted off his failed attempts on his fingers. "Where was I? Ah, the fourth. I got distracted partway through and didn't finish."

Failing to finish had not been unusual, though normally it had been because of injury or fatigue, physical or spiritual. Baze had passed all his trials on the first attempt, but that had not been typical.

"When did you get distracted?" said Baze. His trials for third duan were a long time ago now, but you always remembered your trials. He'd struggled with the public martial arts demonstrations – at the time he'd been a gawky teenager and all one's friends and enemies invariably turned out to watch – but that wouldn't have troubled Chirrut. Maybe the analysis of the sutras …

"During the solitary meditation," said Chirrut. "I remembered I was missing a friend's birthday, so I lost my focus. Since I couldn't get it back I figured the Force wanted me to go to the celebration.

"She died the year after," he added. "The Force is great."

Baze had questions. "At NiJedha they locked you in a windowless cell for the solitary meditation. With a guard outside."

"At my shrine too," said Chirrut. "I had to break out and disable the guard. But only," he added, "because she wouldn't come with me to the celebration." He sighed. "They docked me points for that, and for breaking the door. But the fifth time I should have passed. They failed me because I kept laughing during the meditation. They said it showed undesirable levity."

Baze frowned. "What were you laughing about?"

"The joy of all creation," said Chirrut, surprised.

"Of course," said Baze. "Forget I asked. Go on."

"I told you about the sixth time," said Chirrut. "Lack of self-control. I went into a trance during the martial arts portion and lost my head. I ended up performing some of the exercises for the trials for ninth duan." He shook his head. 

"They were really mad about that," he said. "The elders didn't let me try again for two years. But I deserved it. It was just showing off."

Baze considered what he'd been told. "Seems to me lack of self-control was the reason for a few of the other failures too."

"After the twelfth time I stopped trying," said Chirrut. "It was getting embarrassing. I was so much older than the other candidates. And I got bored, the trials get samey after a while."

"Maybe," said Baze, "you could apply that lack of self-control to other situations. Like now." 

He reached out and ran two fingers from Chirrut's shoulder along his arm, over the angle of his elbow and down the inside of his forearm. He drew a starbird on the inside of Chirrut's wrist, where the skin was softest.

Chirrut raised his head, his mouth slightly open.

"We're alone," said Baze in a low voice. "No one would – and I."

 _Want you_ , he was going to say, but Chirrut was looking reflective. It only lasted for a second.

"No," he said.

" _Chirrut._ "

"This is good for us," said Chirrut. "It'll let me work on the seventh virtue. And it'll make it better when we actually do it."

"It will be good anyway," said Baze, too loud. His colleagues probably could hear him. He didn't give a damn – everyone already thought they were fucking anyway. He might as well disillusion them. "Even if it isn't, we can try again. It's not like we're going to do it just the once."

"Precisely," said Chirrut. The Abbot at NiJedha had had exactly the same tone when she'd caught Baze out in a logic error. "We have our whole lives ahead of us. We can wait."

* * *

That night Baze got his cock out and jerked off under the sheets.

He didn't get in bed with any intention of doing this. He'd meant to respect Chirrut's wishes.

But it had been a long day. Baze had come back to their room to find Chirrut doing some particularly filthy-looking stretches. He couldn't have learnt them at the Temple – they would have caused a riot – so he must have invented them.

Chirrut had then spent the rest of the evening singing a Rodian love song that Baze had taught him when they were talking about erotic music. Of course, Chirrut had elected to sing the words of the twenty-seventh exposition of the Kyber Sutra instead of the original lyrics, but the twenty-seventh exposition was not inappropriate. It was a Reflection on the Flourishing of All Things.

Chirrut was not a good singer. The song wasn't actually sexy the way he sang it, but it was acutely irritating, and when it came to Chirrut it seemed irritation was a form of erotic experience for Baze.

His pent-up ardour came to a head when they went to bed and Chirrut decided to roll over and curl up against him. Chirrut was evidently on the cusp of falling asleep – he slept easily and quickly, with the dreamlessness of the innocent and heartless.

Baze stiffened.

Chirrut hadn't done this before. He'd restrained himself that far. 

He was warm and lean, and it would be so easy to touch him. So good.

"Go to sleep," said Chirrut. His voice was low and dreamy, drunk on sleep. "I can hear you thinking."

"I'm not thinking," said Baze. Images didn't count as thoughts, however lurid they might be.

"Really," said Chirrut, unconvinced. A moment later he said, in a very different tone, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

There was a pause.

"Because it sounds like you're taking your trousers off," said Chirrut.

"No," said Baze. "They're still on." This was strictly true.

He tried to edge away from Chirrut. There wasn't that much space in the bed. But it felt weird to be touching himself with Chirrut's forehead on his arm, his breath gusting over Baze's bicep.

Baze hadn't done this all that often. Being a murderer for hire had depressed his libido for years. After he'd met Chirrut on the Hutt transport, that had changed, but even then he'd only masturbated twice or three times in total, when he got time alone in the 'fresher. He hadn't really been comfortable doing it with Chirrut on the other side of the wall.

But there was no reason to feel guilty now. Chirrut was a free agent. And this would help Baze let off steam. Improve his temper. It was clear he was going to need his patience if he was going to survive the journey to Jedha.

"Baze," said Chirrut. "Are you … "

Baze said, a little breathlessly, "It's none of your business. Go to sleep."

He closed his eyes, biting his lip. He didn't need to work to summon up fantasies. They lay in wait behind the defences he'd erected, and they flooded him now. It was just a question of whether he wanted to consider scenarios that hadn't yet happened or dwell on what he'd already seen of Chirrut.

He had to hold himself back, or it was going to be over too soon. He pressed his head back against the mattress, squeezing his cock under the head. So much for the seventh virtue.

"Baze," said Chirrut. "This is _an injustice_."

"I don't tell you what to do," gasped Baze. "Don't tell me what to do – "

"You tell me what to do all the time!"

"No," said Baze. This was helping. He lowered his hand. It felt important to make this clear.

"I comment disparagingly on what you're about to do," he said. "That's different. I don't try to stop you.

"You tell me what to do all the time," Baze added. "You can damn well let me have this."

Chirrut had no real defence to this. He subsided into an indignant silence, but this didn't prevent him from trying to come closer.

"You can get involved," said Baze, "or you can stay on your side of the bed."

He hadn't expected Chirrut to choose the first option and the man did not. He did stop moving closer.

Chirrut was quiet for so long that Baze thought he'd fallen asleep. He'd almost managed to forget the Chirrut next to him in favour of an imaginary Chirrut, who was no more tractable, but much more naked, and too dazed to be annoying. Then Chirrut said:

"You could be. Louder."

Baze's cock jerked in his hand at the sound of Chirrut's voice. "What?"

"There's no need to hold back," muttered Chirrut. "Don't stay quiet on my account."

"You were the one worrying about the neighbours."

"You're not going to wake the neighbours."

"Oh," said Baze, in a growl under his breath, "I might." 

As far as Baze could tell, Chirrut wasn't doing anything himself, but he felt Chirrut quiver.

Chirrut knew what he could do if he wanted some relief. It seemed to Baze that there was no reason not to get back to what he'd been doing.

"Baze, let me – " said Chirrut. "Let me hear you. I want to listen."

Baze had just enough breath left in him to say, "No."

Chirrut said, startlingly and with vehemence, "Fuck you."

Baze was close to the edge and Chirrut's voice might well have brought him over if he'd said anything else, but this was so surprising that it pulled him back. He paused.

"You could," he said contemplatively. "I would like that."

He heard Chirrut's head thump against the pillow. 

" _No,_ " groaned Chirrut.

That was more like it. Maybe Baze would make Chirrut swear some more when they were back on Jedha. It would have been hot if it hadn't taken Baze off-guard.

In the meantime, Baze focused on the mental image their exchange had conjured up. He hadn't given the scenario the consideration it merited before. With this to ponder, he didn't have much attention to spare for anything else until he came. 

He emerged into a fraught silence.

This didn't bother Baze. Not much could have done. He'd been right that the exercise would improve his mood.

He rolled out of bed, cleaned himself up and got back in.

Chirrut stirred.

"Still awake?" said Baze. A pleasant lethargy had come over him.

"I'm not going to _sleep_ now," said Chirrut.

Baze yawned. 

"I am," he said. "Good night."

* * *

It was astonishing that they'd managed to make it to Hagarth station without running into trouble, but it was inevitable that it would happen.

If Baze had been travelling by himself, he would've had been more sanguine about his chances of avoiding entanglements. The problem, as always, was Chirrut.

Even Chirrut should have known not to entertain the kid, though. She was one of the dozens of beggar children who'd somehow cast up at Hagarth. She shot out from the crowd and said in a piping voice:

"Uncle, why are your eyes funny?"

Chirrut had dropped to a squat and said, "Because I'm blind."

Baze was watching for the child's accomplices, so he didn't react fast enough when she said, "Thought so!" She poked Chirrut in the eyes and grabbed his cane.

"Brat!" said Baze. He reached out to cuff her, but Chirrut blocked him.

"We didn't hit children in the provinces," said the idiot.

Still, he wasn't as great a fool as the woman who dived for them while the child ran off. Chirrut blocked her too. Baze hauled up his cannon and said:

"You don't want to try that again."

The woman agreed. Another moment and she would have faded back into the crowd. Unfortunately for her, the station guards decided it was a good time to make an appearance, since she would clearly give them little trouble to apprehend.

"Stop right there!" shouted a guard.

He hadn't accounted for Chirrut.

If they'd had time to talk about it, Baze might have tried to dissuade Chirrut from fighting off a troop of guards whose only desire was to arrest a woman who had tried to mug him. After all, it was an understandable desire, and one with which Baze had some sympathy. 

In the circumstances, though, it seemed better to leave Chirrut to it and look for the kid.

Luckily she had bright red hair. Baze saw the head bobbing in the crowd and went after it.

Chirrut's cane had a shard of kyber inside it. His preceptors had given it to him when he'd failed the trials for third duan for the eighth time. It was worth preserving.

It wasn't easy to run with a huge fuck-off cannon and a refrigerant tank on his back, but Baze had had plenty of practice. Inevitably he lost the child, but it struck him that running through a crowded space station was an inefficient way to track down street urchins in any case.

He didn't rely on them much anymore, but Baze's upbringing had conferred on him certain qualities. People tended to trust him, even with the blaster and the perpetual expression of thwarted despair. He asked some questions, which got answers, which led him, eventually, to a discreet corner of the station where a charity served meals to the indigent.

The child was there, the cane tucked in the crook of her arm while she ate. Baze had thought she'd struggle to sell it. He plucked it out of her arm and cuffed her on the head. Then he gave her a talking-to and a few credits.

The whole thing left him in a grim temper. It reminded him of dealing with the younger novitiates at the Temple. It had been one of his favourite duties, and he'd been good at it. 

No one had called him "elder brother" in a long time. No one ever would again.

It was late by the time he got back to the room they'd spent almost all their remaining credits on. It wasn't in the best neighbourhood. Baze had to thump one hopeful pickpocket on the way, and he stepped in an unknown substance whose stench suggested he really wanted not to have stepped in it.

He handed Chirrut the cane when he opened the door. "Here's your stick."

"Where have you _been_?" said Chirrut.

"Getting your stick," said Baze. He dumped his tank in a corner and sat down.

He would have to put it back on again if he wanted to go to the communal refresher. He'd half-thought of skipping it, but he'd sleep better for getting clean.

He never thought he'd miss the Hutt transport so much. They only had sonics on Hagarth.

It took Baze a moment to register that Chirrut was angry.

"I thought you were in trouble," said Chirrut. "I thought maybe the guards had taken you away. Even – there were blasters going off, I thought maybe – "

"I wear armour for a reason," said Baze. He hadn't been able to persuade Chirrut to wear armour. Chirrut seemed to think it would get in the way of the Force. "Why would the guards take me away?"

"I don't know," said Chirrut. He sat down next to Baze. "I spent the afternoon in the cells."

"What?"

"They thought I'd injured their brother-officers," said Chirrut. "I explained I couldn't have done, being a blind man whose cane was stolen."

"Did you, though?"

"Yes," said Chirrut, adding, "But I was careful. They'll live."

"Oh, that's all right then."

Baze couldn't always tell when Chirrut had noticed his irony and chosen to ignore it, and when Chirrut was being oblivious. It could have been either right now.

"They let me go," said Chirrut. He ran his hands over Baze's face, moving lower. It was a clinical, almost impersonal touch, confirming the presence of eyes, nose, intact neck; checking that all limbs were in place.

"You're OK?" said Chirrut.

Baze was exhausted. He smelled bad and he was plagued by memories of the past.

"I'm fine," he said shortly. "Just don't get involved in future." He looked at the tank. "I'm going to – "

Chirrut took Baze's face in his hands and kissed him.

Chirrut's mouth was hungry, his hands no longer clinical or impersonal. Baze kissed him back, but then it occurred to him that he should stop.

Chirrut didn't make it easy. He made a noise of protest when Baze tore himself away.

"Wait," said Baze, "wait, wait. Do you – do you want to?"

"Isn't it _obvious_?" said Chirrut. 

He knocked Baze off the bench and pushed him on his back, straddling him. Then Chirrut unzipped his jumpsuit and shoved his hand down his trousers.

"Oh fuck," said Baze.

There wasn't much talking after that.

Baze came with embarrassing swiftness in Chirrut's fist, but this didn't seem to bother Chirrut. He raised his palm to his mouth and licked it.

"Force," said Baze helplessly.

With Chirrut's attention elsewhere, it was easy to flip him over. He went down pliantly, spreading his legs (Baze had _known_ he would like Chirrut better during sex). Baze loosened Chirrut's trousers, tugged them down his hips and swallowed his cock.

It had been a while since he'd last had someone's cock in his mouth. He'd missed the sensation. 

He'd been missing Chirrut for a long time, before they ever met.

It didn't last as long as Baze would have liked. He supposed Chirrut had endured the same agonising couple of months as him. Baze couldn't find it in himself to blame him, not when Chirrut was clawing at his shoulders, whimpering and coming in his mouth.

Baze licked him off until Chirrut shuddered away and said: "Please – " Then Baze rested his head on Chirrut's thigh.

This was going to be the best part.

"I told you so," he said distinctly.

Chirrut wasn't giving in without a fight.

"The floor is sticky," he said. "The cell they put me in was nicer than this."

"Maybe we should both get arrested then," said Baze. He raised himself on his elbows. Chirrut was right. The floor was sticky. 

"We didn't have to do it on the floor," Baze pointed out. "You started it."

"I know," said Chirrut. He stretched, sighing with pleasure. It rippled through every part of his enchanting body. "Let's do it again."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from They Might Be Giants' Birdhouse In Your Soul: "It's a simple message and I'm leaving out the whistles and bells ... "
> 
> All feedback appreciated.


End file.
